The Dove of Sanctuary Drabbles
by Zpan Sven
Summary: A collection of short stories that take place within the 'Dove of Sanctuary' setting.
1. Smoke

**THE DOVE OF SANCTUARY - DRABBLES**

**AUTHOR:** Zpan Sven

**E-MAIL:** Zpan(underscore)Sven(at)hotmail(dot)com or zpan(dot)sven(at)gmail(dot)com

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Saint Seiya, only the characters of my creation, this story, and the alterations I have made to the characters, histories, ect. No profit is being made from this; this is being written solely for the enjoyment of myself and others whom like to indulge in the scenario of 'what if?'.

**AUTHOR' NOTES:** One of my infamous 'What If?' fanfics, where I take some of my ideas, an original character or two, the plot of an anime and throw them in the blender set on puree just to see what happens. For these drabbles, I blame Plantress! And DaHaloChick.

Note, according to my Babylon translator, 'piccione' means 'pigeon' in Italian, a play off Angie's nickname of 'human homing pigeon'. If I'm wrong, please tell me ^^;

"Some believe it is the ability to speak that separates us from the animals…"

'_I think, there for I am…'_

_**:Our minds are as one…: **_

**SUMMARY:** A series of drabbles connected to my fanfic, which is an AU retelling of Saint Seiya, mostly from the view point of the Bronze Saint of Columba, Angie, telling the world from her eyes and showing how much difference a 'minor' character can make…

**CHAPTER SUMMARY:** Staring child!Angie and teen!Deathmask in the days prior to Angie becoming the Tranee for the Columba Cloth.

**RATING:** K+ to T (PG-13)

**WARNINGS:** Violence, swearing, and sexual innuendo and situations…and my depraved sense of humor XD

**GENRE:** Action & Adventure/Drama/Supernatural/Humor

**ARCHIVE:** FanFiction(dot)Net, FicWad(dot)Com, Zpan Sven's Works, others please ask

-

**Smoke**

It was hot. Normally he didn't mind, but it was so hot that even training or terrifying the lesser ranked cannon fodder didn't seem appealing to the teenaged Gold Saint. The sky was such a bright -- almost glaring -- blue without a cloud in the sky; that made the wafting smoke from his cigarillo stand out really. The Cancer Saint lay back on the grass, having discarded just about all his clothes in order to escape from the oppressive heat and the dry grass prickled against his back.

"What's that in your mouth, Mista Crabby?" A small head suddenly poked into view; bright hazel eyes peered down at him from the eyeholes of the thin linen eye-mask the young trainee wore. To be truthful though, at four, she really was too young to be considered a real trainee.

Deathmask twitched visibly at that damn nickname Milo had managed to teach the little girl, who according to the Pope no one was to harm, not even the irritable Cancer Saint. He frowned up at the four-year-old leaning over him, peering at him. The pink ribbons in the braided streamers on either side of her head told him she'd been at Aphrodite's tender mercies already. For a half-second he debated telling her or ignoring her and repressing a sigh, rolling onto his side. Propping his head up with the heel of his hand, he grimaced when the tiny child took that as an invitation to climb on his side.

"Mista Crabby?"

She was persistent, he'd give the brat that.

"It's a cigarillo, _piccione_. And no, you can't have one, don't ever bother asking," he grumbled sullenly, watching the smoke curl wispily from the end as it drifted upwards.

Despite the heat of the day, the little girl's skin was blissfully cool where it pressed against his own as she sat on him and that was the only reason he didn't throw her across the side yard outside his temple for getting in his personal space. _'That's right,'_ he thought, recalling seeing Camus letting her trail after him, _'she has a cold Cosmo.'_

Already she was being given pointers on channeling and manipulating her Cosmo and it was already affecting and altering her very core body temperature. Something inside his gut seemed to twinge - she must be feeling the heat worse then he was and yet she was draping over him, almost like she was trying to cool him down.

"Why do you have one, Mista Crabby? It's stinky." The childish voice was soft and pleasing to the ear; the girl's voice had never been high-pitched, something that many were thankful for.

"I like it. Don't need another reason then that, _piccione_," Deathmask grunted, the end of the cigarillo clamped lightly between his teeth.

"Why? It makes you stinky. Mista Scorpy says it makes you smell like burnted crab legs."

A vein pulsed in his temple in irritation. _'Really now? That damn ass...'_ Deathmask seethed silently.

"Mista Ditey said you have an add...addit..." she frowned, pausing over the big word, stumbling as she tried to get it right, "Addiction!"

"Well I don't. They aren't always right, _piccione_."

The little girl lay over his side, playing with a blade of brittle, brown-tinged grass before she shifted, looking at him. "Mista Crabby, why're there faces in your temple?"

"A reminder, _piccione_," he replied absently, his weight shifting before he rolled back onto his back, folding his hands behind his head; she moved with him, sitting on his chest.

She looked at the teenager, head tilted. "Of what?"

"Of why I need to be strong -- of what happens to the weak," he replied cryptically.

"Oh. Well, Mista Crabby doesn't need 'em. He's really, really strong!" Angie praised him, her small head resting on his chest.

His eyes lowered, peering down to where he felt the little girl curled on his chest. Yeah...he was strong. He was the Gold Saint of Cancer and could send anyone to hell with a mere flick of his finger. But...

But sometimes he was certain something was missing, something was seriously wrong with him. With all his power, with all his strength, he never felt completed or whole like the others would after mastering something, after doing something that seemed simple to them yet impossible for him, like making a friend or being civil.

Shifting a bit, his hand slipped from behind his head, hovering with the fingers spread over the little girl's head. It would be so easy to kill her, to just pull her soul right out. She'd not even fight back, she was already dozing. So what if he wasn't allowed to, since when did he care? He could always send the Holy Father to Hell.

But...

_**'I am Cancer...'**_it sounded like his voice echoing in his head, even as it faded before returning, sounding stronger and more confident, with a sort of confidence he wanted to actually have instead of what he projected._**'...the Guardian of these brats.'**_

His fingers trembled, twitched and his hand lowered, resting lightly on the child's head. The braids and ribbons were so very soft under his calloused fingers and she snuggled against him, the silky, tender cheek cool as it brushed over the crisp, coarse hair developing on his chest.

"_Piccione_," he said softly.

"Mmmm....?"

"Why did you come here?"

Her head suddenly jerked up, pressing against his hand. "I forgot! Mista Crabby, Mista Lyre's gonna to play tonight afta dinner. You'll be there, right?"

"Lyra," Deathmask corrected, as he began to sit up.

"Lyra," she repeated and beamed when he nodded in approval. Scrambling up, she dusted off her tunic. "I gotta go tell Mista Aldybarn! Bye-bye, Mista Crabby!"

She darted off at a speed and grace normal four-year-olds would never be able to match and a faint smirk curled the Cancer Saint's lips as he watched the future Messenger dart off. Even if she was weak, she had her duty and her purpose and he'd have to put up with her while she was still as pitifully weak as she was.


	2. Deception

**THE DOVE OF SANCTUARY - DRABBLES**

**AUTHOR:** Zpan Sven

**E-MAIL:** Zpan(underscore)Sven(at)hotmail(dot)com or zpan(dot)sven(at)gmail(dot)com

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Saint Seiya, only the characters of my creation, this story, and the alterations I have made to the characters, histories, ect. No profit is being made from this; this is being written solely for the enjoyment of myself and others whom like to indulge in the scenario of 'what if?'.

**AUTHOR' NOTES:** One of my infamous 'What If?' fanfics, where I take some of my ideas, an original character or two, the plot of an anime and throw them in the blender set on puree just to see what happens. For these drabbles, I blame Plantress! And DaHaloChick.

They never said if Orphée and Eurydice were married or engaged or just lovers. I'm guessing an engagement and that Eurydice was a local village girl.

"Some believe it is the ability to speak that separates us from the animals…"

'_I think, there for I am…'_

_**:Our minds are as one…: **_

**SUMMARY:** A series of drabbles connected to my fanfic, which is an AU retelling of Saint Seiya, mostly from the view point of the Bronze Saint of Columba, Angie, telling the world from her eyes and showing how much difference a 'minor' character can make…

**CHAPTER SUMMARY:** Starring Evil!Saga primarily, with cameos from Lyra Orphée, his fiancée Eurydice, and child!Angie. A secret plot of the False Pope's is revealed...

**RATING:** K+ to T (PG-13)

**WARNINGS:** Violence, swearing, and sexual innuendo and situations…and my depraved sense of humor XD

**GENRE:** Action & Adventure/Drama/Supernatural/Humor

**ARCHIVE:** FanFiction(dot)Net, FicWad(dot)Com, Zpan Sven's Works, others please ask

-

**Deception**

It was all coming together so nicely, this deception of his. Behind his blank facemask, his smile was of predatory glee as he observed the orphan's interactions with the mighty Gold Saints. Without even having to order it or suggest it they were letting her into their lives, letting her worm her way into their hearts and earning their affections. Even his volatile Cancer Saint was grudgingly opening up to her.

Yes, it would be no surprise for them when he revealed her to be their Goddess made flesh given the way the little girl was unintentionally wrapping them around her little finger. All he needed to do was watch and wait until the perfect moment to make the grand announcement. Of course in this time he shall in raise up in the girl unwavering loyalty to him, to Sanctuary. It wouldn't be hard at all – given her status as an orphan, her lack of family – with her desperate need of affection and acceptance.

The chords of Lyra Orphée's lyre mingled with the child's untrained voice and the Silver Saint smiled down at her benignly. From where he stood, the false Pope could clearly see the little girl sitting in the lap of the peasant girl Eurydice that the Saint was engaged to marry. With the fact both the young woman and little girl had blonde hair and were garbed in white, they almost appeared like a family, a pair of doting young parents with their precious child.

Saga frowned behind his mask, his disposition turning sour.

Orphée would do anything for his beloved Eurydice, including betray the Sanctuary if she asked him to. With his impressive abilities, his fantastically powerful Cosmos, he could become a threat to the Gemini Saint's plans. And given the fact that Eurydice would often appear to mother the girl, draw the three of them in like a family unit, it could mean many things and most of them were not favorable along with Saga's plans. The girl had to be orphaned, she had to keep that emotional dependency on him most of all, as she grew to make her loyal without question to him, to the Sanctuary.

He would have to investigate the matter further then take action. Because after all he had done and all he had sacrificed, it would not do for his deception to be discovered now, not when everything was falling into place so nicely.

In only a couple days he found his suspicions confirmed and that Eurydice had been looking for Athena's Nurse, the woman he had killed right after Pope Shion when she tried to block his way into the Holy Nursery. She had been a local and the friend of Eurydice's aunt, so her 'disappearance' hadn't gone as unnoticed as he had previously believed.

In the guise of a servant of Gemini Temple, he had followed her discreetly, with his hair dyed brown and his garb plain to blend in with the surrounding people. He stalked her as she entered that field of flowers where she and the Lyra Saint would meet.

'That's right, it's almost time for Orphée bring Angie for one of her singing lessons,' the False Pope recalled. He smiled -- a cruel, feral expression -- that twisted his handsome features; how fitting that she'd be found by them, in this place of tranquility and fond memories.

She was a mere civilian so she had no way to even fight back against his Demon Emperor Fist, didn't even have time to fight back as the technique consumed her mind. Like a sleepwalker she moved through the field and her foot came down on the venomous serpent she clearly would have seen and avoided in other circumstances. The Demon Fist unraveled as the snake struck and she cried out in pain as she collapsed near the large flat stone Orphée would sit on and play for her and the future Messenger.

Turning away, the False Pope's smile was equally vicious as it was victorious. He was out of their sight, his Cosmos suppressed when he heard Orphée's anguished voice and Angie's confused cries for her Mama Eurydice to awaken went unanswered.


	3. Duty

**THE DOVE OF SANCTUARY - DRABBLES**

**AUTHOR:** Zpan Sven

**E-MAIL:** Zpan(underscore)Sven(at)hotmail(dot)com or zpan(dot)sven(at)gmail(dot)com

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Saint Seiya, only the characters of my creation, this story, and the alterations I have made to the characters, histories, ect. No profit is being made from this; this is being written solely for the enjoyment of myself and others whom like to indulge in the scenario of 'what if?'.

**AUTHOR' NOTES:** One of my infamous 'What If?' fanfics, where I take some of my ideas, an original character or two, the plot of an anime and throw them in the blender set on puree just to see what happens. For these drabbles, I blame Plantress! And DaHaloChick. ;

"Some believe it is the ability to speak that separates us from the animals…"

'_I think, there for I am…'_

_**:Our minds are as one…: **_

**SUMMARY:** A series of drabbles connected to my fanfic, which is an AU retelling of Saint Seiya, mostly from the view point of the Bronze Saint of Columba, Angie, telling the world from her eyes and showing how much difference a 'minor' character can make…

**CHAPTER SUMMARY:** Starring child!Angie and teen!Shura. Wanting to know what it is to be the best Saint possible, the young Trainee seeks out Athena's most loyal...

**RATING:** K+ to T (PG-13)

**WARNINGS:** Violence, swearing, and sexual innuendo and situations…and my depraved sense of humor XD

**GENRE:** Action & Adventure/Drama/Supernatural/Humor

**ARCHIVE:** FanFiction(dot)Net, FicWad(dot)Com, Zpan Sven's Works, others please ask

-

**Duty**

Angie was of the opinion that Master Capricorn was amazing. Of course all the Gold Saints were remarkable in her young eyes, able to move as fast as they did and to be able to perform such feats as they did. They had astonished her as a toddler and they continue to astound her even at a very mature six-years-old, if she said so herself. It was easy to find him in the Capricorn Temple because all one had to do was follow either the sound of him training outside the temple or locate the source of the off-key singing within.

Master Capricorn loved music, especially that Opera stuff, often singing it as he cooked and cleaned inside his spotless temple. Master Lyra had told her she had a natural gift for music and perfect pitch, so sometimes in the temple she could only put up with it for so long do to how his voice would echo. She never had the heart to correct him; he was Master Capricorn after all and he could use the mighty Excalibur, move at the speed of light, and do all those amazing things…

But _damn_ -- and what a fun word that was, she'd have to thank Master Cancer for saying it in front of her when he dropped that pot on his toe -- he couldn't carry a tune, not even in a bucket. Sometimes, if she thought she could get away with it, she wanted to jab him in the diaphragm and tell him _that_ was where you sang from. But then she'd remember Master Lyra and Mama Eurydice and her chest would hurt again. So she tried to forget because it made her chest hurt less and if she forgot she wouldn't cry.

Trotting through the Capricorn temple, she followed the sounds of training to find the Gold Saint. Pausing at the doorway, she just watched as the teenaged Saint stood poised, arm upraised. He appeared so calm, collected and at peace with himself and all around him. A breeze ruffled his green hair and drying sweat gleamed on his tanned skin. Angie stared at the Gold Saint, convinced once more they must be demi-gods to wield the power they did.

Then his arm blurred, the cry of his attack -- _"Excalibur!"_ -- ringing about before the boulder before him was sliced perfectly in two, without leaving a gouge in the earth beneath. The smooth faces of the cut boulder gleamed like the marble floors of Capricorn Temple and the kitchen countertops of Cancer Temple.

'Power, tempered with precision, honed with control,' he had told her before. 'Power in and of itself can do a great deal of damage, to both the wielder and the opponent. It is when you know how to control it, to hone it with precision that it is truly a tool, a weapon.'

When Shura turned, he found the wide-eyed child holding up his sweat-towel to him reverently. Smiling, he took it from her hands and wiped his face. "_Bebé_! What brings you here?"

She pouted up at him as he draped the towel around his neck. "I'm not a baby any more, Master Capricorn. I'm almost all grown up!"

"I'll stop calling you _bebé_ when you get a Cloth, Angie. Then you'll be grown up, because then you'll be a true Saint, not a little hatchling anymore."

"That's why I'm here!"

"Here at my temple? You're a Libra, not a Capricorn. And you're not quite trained enough to try for a Gold Cloth just yet."

"No, no, I'm here because His Excellency said that you are one of the best and truest of Saints and I want to know how you did it so I can be just like you!"

A far away look came over his face as he seemed to look out in the distance. "The Pope told you? Alright then. Would you like to hear a story, Angie?"

"Yes please!"

She clung to his hand and with a wistful smile, the teen lifted up, and the muscles under his tanned skin bunching even as he effortlessly lifted her. Tucking his other arm beneath her rear, he carried her over to the steps leading into the rear of his temple. Sitting with her on his knee, he cleared his throat, buying time to find a starting point.

"Once, not too long ago, I had a friend. He was a lot like a brother to me – he was a fellow Gold Saint, the Saint of the Sagittarius Cloth – named Aioros." Shura began, the little girl sitting on his knee eagerly awaiting his every word. "I am not sure why he did it, no one really does, but he betrayed us…"

He didn't give overly long descriptions of what was really a short tale of betrayal and battle. It was recounted in a clear, concise manner how he had been dispatched to deal with the traitor, even though they had been so close. Her young eyes were wide, almost seeming to fill her round face as he concluded.

"…and despite that friendship, my duty – every Saints' duty, past, present, and future – is to Athena. So I did what had to be done. I killed him, as quickly as I could to make his death painless. When a Saint kills, _bebé_, and a Saint eventually _will_ have to kill, there should be little suffering as possible. Kill them and move on, don't prolong it."

His voice wavered, then cracked in a way that it hadn't done since he reached puberty. Shura's eyes closed, clenching tightly against the burn of tears; the Capricorn Saint had never told anyone but the Pope what had happened that night and then he'd been too emotionally drained to cry after. The salty tears seemed to burn as they seeped from beneath his eyelids, cutting gleaming trails through the sweat and grime covering his face.

She'd never seen one of the Gold Saints cry before. In a mixture of awe and disbelief at what she was seeing, Angie shifted on his lap, a small hand braced on the powerful bicep and the other lifting to his face. The tears were so hot under her cool fingertips that they seemed to burn, but they were real. Pressing her palm against the angular cheek, she could feel the coarseness of the faint stubble developing on his face.

The gentle touch, soft and compassionate made him shudder as the wall he had erected around his grief at Aioros's death to hide it away from the others began to crumble. Pulling the child against him, he rested his cheek on her head, cradling her like he never really had the chance to do with Aiolia after that cursed night. The boy was afraid of him and who was Shura to blame him? He'd killed the only family Aiolia had, had returned to Sanctuary with Aioros's blood literally on his hands.

So there he sat, clutching the little girl to him like a lifeline. She smelled sweetly, like the breeze of spring, washing away his self-hatred and she felt so small in his arms, rousing the protective urges the Saint had. He'd never seen Athena before; certainly she'd be around the size of this girl by now. Then again, only the Pope and the Nurse had seen her, the fear of another traitor in their midst keeping her away from her loyal Saints.

For Angie, the child knew that while they were so powerful and strong, the men who were like demi-gods were still men, still human. She cuddled against him, on some level seeking to sooth her superior, a silent promise she'd not tell if he cried, that it was alright if he did, just like it was alright if she cried for Mama Eurydice and Master Lyra.

They were Saints and they had a duty, to their Goddess and to each other. And even if it hurt to do it, they had to carry out their duty.


	4. Cook

**THE DOVE OF SANCTUARY - DRABBLES**

**AUTHOR:** Zpan Sven

**E-MAIL:** Zpan(underscore)Sven(at)hotmail(dot)com or zpan(dot)sven(at)gmail(dot)com

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Saint Seiya, only the characters of my creation, this story, and the alterations I have made to the characters, histories, ect. No profit is being made from this; this is being written solely for the enjoyment of myself and others whom like to indulge in the scenario of 'what if?'.

**AUTHOR' NOTES:** One of my infamous 'What If?' fanfics, where I take some of my ideas, an original character or two, the plot of an anime and throw them in the blender set on puree just to see what happens. For these drabbles, I blame Plantress! And DaHaloChick. ;

"Some believe it is the ability to speak that separates us from the animals…"

'_I think, there for I am…'_

_**:Our minds are as one…: **_

**SUMMARY:** A series of drabbles connected to my fanfic, which is an AU retelling of Saint Seiya, mostly from the view point of the Bronze Saint of Columba, Angie, telling the world from her eyes and showing how much difference a 'minor' character can make…

**CHAPTER SUMMARY:** Starring child!Angie and teen!Deathmask. Deathmask sulks over the fact his 'pet pigeon' is having to leave him to train with the Amazons...

**RATING:** K+ to T (PG-13)

**WARNINGS:** Violence, swearing, and sexual innuendo and situations…and my depraved sense of humor XD

**GENRE:** Action & Adventure/Drama/Supernatural/Humor

**ARCHIVE:** FanFiction(dot)Net, FicWad(dot)Com, Zpan Sven's Works, others please ask

-

**Cook**

Master Cancer loved to cook.

But she wasn't allowed to tell anyone that, otherwise he'd be very upset with her.

Standing on a chair pulled up beside the counter, she stood beside the Gold Saint, peering into the massive mixing bowl as she carefully stirred the contents with a big wooden spoon. The tomatoes and fresh basil smelled so delightfully good. The steady rhythm click-clack-click-clack of the teenager's knife moving atop the cutting board, mincing the basil she had brought for him mixed with the faint hum of the refrigerator and the sound of the wooden spoon against the metal side of the bowl. The blade gleamed in the afternoon sunlight that streamed through the kitchen window.

The pair of them wore matching aprons with the Astrological Sign of Cancer on the front bib; the trainee's had to be adjusted to fit her and it still resembled more of a chiton then an actual apron. With the tip of her tongue sticking from the corner of her mouth and her brows drawn together as she stared into the bowl in concentration, she didn't see the faint smile on the Cancer Saint's face. For all of being such a terrifying figure he did like the little brat and over the past few years, she'd grown on him. Maybe it was because she didn't fear him and looked at him in awe and reverence, that she acknowledged his strength and never looked for any weaknesses. It was rather flattering to the ego, to have someone who looked up to you like that, with the hero-worship evident.

And she served a bit as a focus, someone he knew he could protect. That odd need still lingered, even now and with her trailing about after either him or the others, it gave them all someone to interact with that really and truly needed them. He railed against the thought that she'd be going to the female-only area to begin her official training soon, to learn from the Amazons how to fight and further channel her Cosmos. She'd pass their tests and get her first true mask, hiding away that cherubic face completely rather than the cloth half-mask she wore now.

He didn't like it. He wanted her to stay here and fawn over him; he was – rather grudgingly – willing to share her attentions with his fellow Gold Saints but for her to leave them! But there was nothing he could do, she was growing up. The Pope had spoken and that was that. She'd still come around, but she'd not always be running between one of the temples or sleeping in whichever one she wanted for the night.

Frowning down at the cutting board, he studied the minced basil and added them to the mixing bowl for her to stir the ingredients together. At least he could have her to himself for a little while, have someone to adore him and marvel over him.

"As soon as you mix this, then we---"


	5. Prank

**THE DOVE OF SANCTUARY - DRABBLES**

**AUTHOR:** Zpan Sven

**E-MAIL:** Zpan(underscore)Sven(at)hotmail(dot)com or zpan(dot)sven(at)gmail(dot)com

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Saint Seiya, only the characters of my creation, this story, and the alterations I have made to the characters, histories, ect. No profit is being made from this; this is being written solely for the enjoyment of myself and others whom like to indulge in the scenario of 'what if?'.

**AUTHOR' NOTES:** One of my infamous 'What If?' fanfics, where I take some of my ideas, an original character or two, the plot of an anime and throw them in the blender set on puree just to see what happens. For these drabbles, I blame Plantress! And DaHaloChick. ;

"Some believe it is the ability to speak that separates us from the animals…"

'_I think, there for I am…'_

_**:Our minds are as one…: **_

**SUMMARY:** A series of drabbles connected to my fanfic, which is an AU retelling of Saint Seiya, mostly from the view point of the Bronze Saint of Columba, Angie, telling the world from her eyes and showing how much difference a 'minor' character can make…

**CHAPTER SUMMARY:** Starring teen!Deathmask with cameos from the other teen!Gold Saints and child!Angie. Deathmask has quit smoking to prove himself. Milo, however, finds a chance to torment the crab who is suffering from nicotine-withdrawal. This will not end well.

**RATING:** K+ to T (PG-13)

**WARNINGS:** Violence, swearing, and sexual innuendo and situations…and my depraved sense of humor XD

**GENRE:** Action & Adventure/Drama/Supernatural/Humor

**ARCHIVE:** FanFiction(dot)Net, FicWad(dot)Com, Zpan Sven's Works, others please ask

-

**Prank**

He'd quit smoking.

Not because the others were telling him to, oh no, but because he felt like it. And to prove he could if he wanted to. It didn't help that he was so tempted to tell Angie to bring him back his cigarillos from wherever she hid them. This quitting 'cold turkey' was harder then he had thought.

But he'd not given up.

No, he was Cancer Deathmask, the mighty and powerful Gold Saint with the faces of those that dared to challenge him and Sanctuary on the walls of his temple. His trophies. Perhaps he'd count them, to get his mind off wanting a cigarillo. Yes, what a great idea. And he could think about the battles, especially the challenging ones. Stalking into the main hall of his temple, he was busy counting the few faces he's put up on the pillars outside his quarters, so he didn't notice how his prized trophies had been defaced yet.

However, when he did, the outraged bellow echoed all the way up to Leo temple; the Leo Gold Saint Aiolia poked his head out and eyed the figure storming up the steps to his temple nervously. Who the hell pissed the psycho crab off?! Especially with Angie occupied at the Pisces Temple with Aphrodite and unable to cling to the crab's leg in order to distract him. He wisely stayed out of the infuriated Sicilian's way, not wanting to risk ending up with his face as part of Deathmask's collection of trophies. Brave the Lion might have been, that didn't make him crazy or suicidal to get in the way of a rampaging Cancer Saint.

In the Virgo temple, Shaka merely raised a brow but refrained from commenting as Deathmask stormed through, though he wondered if he should contact Camus to cool off the hot-headed Italian or perhaps Aphrodite as the Pisces Saint was friends with the Cancer Saint. Then again, he had a feeling that this reaction may be a result of sensing Milo's suppressed Cosmos in Cancer temple in the predawn. Libra Temple was empty, with no one there to warn Milo of the Cancer Saint coming his way.

"_You damn scorpion!"_

The roar echoed, as did the resulting brawl, the sound of flesh striking flesh as punches and kicks were exchanged. The pair of teen boys continued to fight – it wasn't as serious as it could have been, which would have resulted either in an instant defeat or Thousand-Day War – until the air dropped in temperature so fast crystals of ice formed. Deathmask's head craned back as he stared at the Saint who had cleared his throat.

Taurus Aldebaran stood with his hands on his hips, shaking his head, while Aquarius Camus had that 'I am pissed off but refuse to show it' expression on his face that those that knew him well enough recognized right away. Pisces Aphrodite stood to the side with Capricorn Shura, with Angie gripping a hand of both Saints; given the feminine appearance of Aphrodite, from his hair in a loose braid to his flowing chiton, if one assumed him a girl and ignored the teen' ages entirely, one might imagine the trio a family. Of course the gathered Gold Saints knew better then to even think that as Shura preferred women and no matter how much Aphrodite could make a convincing woman, he was still a man.

The Scorpio and Cancer Saints were bruised, bloodied, and filthy from rolling around in the dirt, with dried grass sticking in their hair. At the moment, Milo had Deathmask partially pinned, but the Italian teen had the other's long hair wrapped around his wrist, painfully arching the Greek's neck.

"What do you think you two are doing?" Aphrodite demanded, a vein pulsing at his temple and artfully plucked brow twitching.

"He desecrated my temple---!"

"It was just a joke, you stupid crab---!"

"This is over one of your pranks?" Camus asked quietly.

"—maybe?"

The Aquarius Saint closed his eyes, mentally keeping a firm hold on his temper before opening his eyes again. "Deathmask, Milo. Separate and calm down now."

Of course it wasn't that simple, it never was with the two. As it was, Aldebaran had scooped the young Messenger-trainee up and carted her off as the remaining Saints pulled the squabbling Scorpion and Crab apart. Really, couldn't they at least _pretend_ to act like adults?


	6. Ache

**THE DOVE OF SANCTUARY - DRABBLES**

**AUTHOR:** Zpan Sven

**E-MAIL:** Zpan(underscore)Sven(at)hotmail(dot)com or zpan(dot)sven(at)gmail(dot)com

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Saint Seiya, only the characters of my creation, this story, and the alterations I have made to the characters, histories, ect. No profit is being made from this; this is being written solely for the enjoyment of myself and others whom like to indulge in the scenario of 'what if?'.

**AUTHOR' NOTES:** One of my infamous 'What If?' fanfics, where I take some of my ideas, an original character or two, the plot of an anime and throw them in the blender set on puree just to see what happens. For these drabbles, I blame Plantress! And DaHaloChick. ;

"Some believe it is the ability to speak that separates us from the animals…"

'_I think, there for I am…'_

_**:Our minds are as one…: **_

**SUMMARY:** A series of drabbles connected to my fanfic, which is an AU retelling of Saint Seiya, mostly from the view point of the Bronze Saint of Columba, Angie, telling the world from her eyes and showing how much difference a 'minor' character can make…

**CHAPTER SUMMARY:** Starring teen!Shura and his silent reflections and angst.

**RATING:** K+ to T (PG-13)

**WARNINGS:** Violence, swearing, and sexual innuendo and situations…and my depraved sense of humor XD

**GENRE:** Action & Adventure/Drama/Supernatural/Humor

**ARCHIVE:** FanFiction(dot)Net, FicWad(dot)Com, Zpan Sven's Works, others please ask

---

_**Ache**_

Sometimes he found himself rubbing at his at his right forearm just before the wrist joint. He didn't do it consciously and didn't even know he did it until Aphrodite had pointed it out to him, concerned he had hurt himself training. Shura hadn't, and while the concern from his fellow Gold Saint was appreciated, it did unnerve him this phantom pain that would come and go. It was never consistent except in the fact he didn't know it was there until he or another noticed he was rubbing that same spot.

Shaka believed it was stress-induced as he used his right hand to strike down the traitor who had been his best friend. Aldebaran agreed, that it wasn't a physical but a spiritual pain, a residue from having been both betrayed by Aioros then forced to kill him on Athena's behalf. Maybe they were right but he wasn't convinced it was that; his heart ached over the betrayal more then his weapon did given he had put his very heart into his blows that night.

Deathmask, in one of his rarer and odder thoughtful moods – Angie had slept over at his temple the night before and she always relaxed him for some reason – had suggested perhaps it was the conflict between his heart and his weapon. That made more sense to Shura, it really did. His heart was connected to the strength and power of his Excalibur and he could make it even stronger and more powerful, hone it to the sharpest of edges, but only if he gave up on his heart, his emotions.

His Master had told him that Excalibur's sharpness was only dulled by the emotions within the heart of the one wielding it. And he had been full of fury, betrayal, self-righteous indignation that night. At the time he believed that had made his blade the sharpest it had ever been. But now a doubt niggled at him, making him wonder if the opposite had been true. Had he struck his friend— no, the traitor – down with a dulled weapon that had been burdened by the heaviness of his heart?

Would knowing the truth make the ache better?

Or worse?


	7. Opera

**THE DOVE OF SANCTUARY - DRABBLES**

**AUTHOR:** Zpan Sven

**E-MAIL:** Zpan(underscore)Sven(at)hotmail(dot)com or zpan(dot)sven(at)gmail(dot)com

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Saint Seiya, only the characters of my creation, this story, and the alterations I have made to the characters, histories, ect. No profit is being made from this; this is being written solely for the enjoyment of myself and others whom like to indulge in the scenario of 'what if?'.

**AUTHOR' NOTES:** One of my infamous 'What If?' fanfics, where I take some of my ideas, an original character or two, the plot of an anime and throw them in the blender set on puree just to see what happens. For these drabbles, I blame Plantress! And DaHaloChick. ;

"Some believe it is the ability to speak that separates us from the animals…"

'_I think, there for I am…'_

_**:Our minds are as one…: **_

**SUMMARY:** A series of drabbles connected to my fanfic, which is an AU retelling of Saint Seiya, mostly from the view point of the Bronze Saint of Columba, Angie, telling the world from her eyes and showing how much difference a 'minor' character can make…

**CHAPTER SUMMARY:** A glimpse of what the teenage Gold Saints of Capricorn, Aquarius, and Cancer talk about in their down-time, as witnessed through the eyes of young Angie.

**RATING:** K+ to T (PG-13)

**WARNINGS:** Violence, swearing, and sexual innuendo and situations…and my depraved sense of humor XD

**GENRE:** Action & Adventure/Drama/Supernatural/Humor

**ARCHIVE:** FanFiction(dot)Net, FicWad(dot)Com, Zpan Sven's Works, others please ask

-

**Opera**

The only think she knew about Opera was that Master Shura liked to sing it.

A lot.

Of course she never had the heart to tell him he was singing badly, because that would hurt his feelings and she would never do that. Not that Master Deathmask had the same sense of tact and loved to point it out with snide comments. So did Master Milo, only he did so often in an overly-dramatic manner where he clutched his ears pretending his eardrums had ruptured and wailing for Athena to save him.

With a bowl of spaghetti with a fresh tomato and basil sauce she and Master Deathmask had made in her lap, Angie watched the trio of Gold Saints have a lively…'_debate_'. Yes, that was what the eight-year-old was calling it, never mind the fact that they were all squabbling like small children, even Master Camus.

Over opera.

Or, to be exact, which of their nationalities had the _best_ operas. So far Master Deathmask seemed to have the best argument – opera originated in Italy, after all, and was an Italian word. Of course that was the most she understood of it. Most of what they were talking about was over her head. But it was nice to have the three together and knowing they had a common subject they liked.

Now, if she could just get them to stop _arguing_...


	8. Cold

**THE DOVE OF SANCTUARY - DRABBLES**

**AUTHOR:** Zpan Sven

**E-MAIL:** Zpan(underscore)Sven(at)hotmail(dot)com or zpan(dot)sven(at)gmail(dot)com

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Saint Seiya, only the characters of my creation, this story, and the alterations I have made to the characters, histories, ect. No profit is being made from this; this is being written solely for the enjoyment of myself and others whom like to indulge in the scenario of 'what if?'.

**AUTHOR' NOTES:** One of my infamous 'What If?' fanfics, where I take some of my ideas, an original character or two, the plot of an anime and throw them in the blender set on puree just to see what happens. For these drabbles, I blame Plantress! And DaHaloChick. ;

"Some believe it is the ability to speak that separates us from the animals…"

'_I think, there for I am…'_

_**:Our minds are as one…: **_

**SUMMARY:** A series of drabbles connected to my fanfic, which is an AU retelling of Saint Seiya, mostly from the view point of the Bronze Saint of Columba, Angie, telling the world from her eyes and showing how much difference a 'minor' character can make…

**CHAPTER SUMMARY:** Its the cold that brings together master and student, even if its not what keeps them together.

**RATING:** K+ to T (PG-13)

**WARNINGS:** Violence, swearing, and sexual innuendo and situations…and my depraved sense of humor XD

**GENRE:** Action & Adventure/Drama/Supernatural/Humor

**ARCHIVE:** FanFiction(dot)Net, FicWad(dot)Com, Zpan Sven's Works, others please ask

-

**Cold**

Of all the Saints, Aquarius Camus was the master of ice and cold. He could sense those that had similar Cosmos to his, those that could do more then just use their Cosmos but actually learn to manipulate the atmosphere around them and use ice itself as their weapon. He had trained one such individual as it was and he had become known as the Crystal Saint. Last Camus heard, his apprentice had taken two students of his own with the ambition that one of them would gain the Cygnus Cloth.

Camus wished him well on the endeavor and was confident in the boy he had trained. Of course, without apprentices of his own, he found himself lacking things to do in Sanctuary – with the heat of Greece, he normally didn't leave his nice, icy temple unless he had to or was dragged out of there by Milo.

Then the girl appeared. A tiny toddler that the Pope allowed to interact with them. She was their servant, the future Messenger of Sanctuary, they had been told, and once she managed to earn it, would become the Bronze Saint of Columba. When he had looked down at the tiny, half-masked child, wearing a too-big tunic and with bare feet in the Pope's Hall, he had sensed it in her Cosmos.

Cold. Ice and snow, swirling in her barely-there Cosmos.

It was there, that rare ability to use Cosmos to create ice. And his interest had been piqued, though he let none know of it. He didn't have to. Afterward, the Pope had gently pulled him aside and informed him that the girl would need pointers as she grew to control the latent ability she would one day harness as a Saint of Athena.

That, he told himself, was why he had begun teaching her well before most children would be considered ready for becoming a trainee. It wasn't because he was lonely, because how could he be with Milo constantly pestering him? The answer didn't come to him until it was time for her to leave for the females' only area and he had felt a surge of jealousy at the Silver Saint leading their little girl away.

He missed teaching, of having a student to guide and nurture. He missed the relationship that formed, that pseudo-bond of parent and child, of respect and devotion. The urge to stop that Crane Saint and demand she hand over his student was strong but one he repressed; Angie would come back to him, would come back to all of them on the mountain, even before she gained her Cloth.

And that soothed him. She'd be back. And when she was, he had plenty more he could teach her, things she hadn't been able to comprehend or physically handle just yet.


	9. Pet

**THE DOVE OF SANCTUARY - DRABBLES**

**AUTHOR:** Zpan Sven

**E-MAIL:** Zpan(underscore)Sven(at)hotmail(dot)com or zpan(dot)sven(at)gmail(dot)com

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Saint Seiya, only the characters of my creation, this story, and the alterations I have made to the characters, histories, ect. No profit is being made from this; this is being written solely for the enjoyment of myself and others whom like to indulge in the scenario of 'what if?'.

**AUTHOR' NOTES:** One of my infamous 'What If?' fanfics, where I take some of my ideas, an original character or two, the plot of an anime and throw them in the blender set on puree just to see what happens. For these drabbles, I blame Plantress! And DaHaloChick. ;

"Some believe it is the ability to speak that separates us from the animals…"

'_I think, there for I am…'_

_**:Our minds are as one…: **_

**SUMMARY:** A series of drabbles connected to my fanfic, which is an AU retelling of Saint Seiya, mostly from the view point of the Bronze Saint of Columba, Angie, telling the world from her eyes and showing how much difference a 'minor' character can make…

**CHAPTER SUMMARY:** Deathmask was possessive over what was his. And Angie? She is -his- pet.

**RATING:** K+ to T (PG-13)

**WARNINGS:** Violence, swearing, and sexual innuendo and situations…and my depraved sense of humor XD

**GENRE:** Action & Adventure/Drama/Supernatural/Humor

**ARCHIVE:** FanFiction(dot)Net, FicWad(dot)Com, Zpan Sven's Works, others please ask

**Pet**

Angie was his pet. She was his and damn having to share his pet with the others. If it hadn't been for Saga, he'd probably have killed most of them. Deathmask was not a man to share – he was an angry, jealous man and how he loathed when something that belonged to him wasn't with him and in the presence of someone he didn't trust. He only trusted possibly two people with his pet: Aphrodite whom he himself viewed as a brother of sorts and Shura who was so hung up on Athena that he'd never think of doing anything inappropriate with anyone, Deathmask was certain.

He didn't like how as she grew more people wanted her time and attention. After she had left the mountain, many had noticed how even more irritable he had become. And given his previous possessiveness over one tiny child, everyone knew why.

Deathmask wanted his pet back.

The first time Scorpio Milo had heard that the Cancer Saint had considered her his pet, the scenario that came to his mind – perhaps influenced by the gossip of the servants he had been eavesdropping on – hadn't painted a very flattering picture of the Italian teen. After all, how many seventeen-year-old boys considered a six-year-old girl a pet? Even in Sanctuary? And how many would let that child sleep in the same bed?

Milo had of course expressed his concerns. Aphrodite laughed in his face, while Shura just shook his head and told him to get his mind out of the gutter. Camus was more willing to listen, perhaps because he had been tutoring the child and was attached to her. Together they had approached Shaka; the Man Closest to God was calm as always but there was a slight furrowing of his brows that showed he too was concerned by the situation especially when the day before Deathmask had broken Aiolia's nose for rough-housing with the girl before carting her back to Cancer Temple. It wasn't like the fourteen-year-old wasn't mindful of his own strength!

Aldebaran, much to their surprise, had told them that they were reading something in the situation that wasn't there. Deathmask merely saw the girl as family, but didn't know how to express himself, the Taurus Saint informed them. Camus seemed somewhat appeased by this explanation much to Milo's dismay.

There wasn't something right going on in the Cancer Saint's head and Scorpio didn't fully trust him around their little girl, who was a ray of light and innocence after the betrayal of Aioros and the abrupt loss of contact with their Goddess. After all, how could he trust a man who put the faces of those he killed on his wall and saw a child as his pet?


End file.
